


McCoy Over A Barrel

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek Narsarya B [8]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Bickering, Blow Job, Box Cutter, Conscience On Feet, Crack, Determined Spock, Discipline Threatened, Explicit Language, Fluff, Giant Ape, Handcuffs, Humor, Intervention, Intervention for McCoy, Klingons, M/M, McCoy Intervention, McCoy Needs Discipline, McCoy Takes Them All On, Multiple Orgasms, Narsarya B, Narsarya B "Land of the Lotus Flower", Narsarya B (Star Trek Series), Octopus, Porn With Plot, Pure Smut, Rough Sex, Sex Starved Giant Ape, Sex Starved Klingons, Sex Starved Tiny Octopus, Smut, Spanking Threatened, Spock Gives It One For The Team, Spock Gives It That Old College Try, Star Trek Humor, Sugar High - Freeform, Tentacle Sex, Valentine's Day Aftermath, Valentine's Day Fluff, Voyeur Kirk, Zoophilia, humor and angst, sex with animals, spones - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9821219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: McCoy is over a barrel.  Literally.  And Spock put him there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spock has McCoy right where he wants him.  
> An intervention for McCoy. And a last hurrah for Valentine's Day.  
> McCoy has consumed too much Valentine's candy and the cure for his sugar high is rather drastic.

Leonard McCoy didn’t even know why he was out here this time of the night. He didn’t even know if it was particularly safe on this foggy wharf in this coastal city on Narsarya B. But at the moment he didn’t even know if he was particularly concerned about his safety. He had other things on his mind.

He was at a crossroads. He hadn’t really recognized it as such until now. It had just kind of sneaked up on him when he had least expected it.

Was this where he expected to be at this time in his life? A daughter whom he rarely got to see. Two failed marriages behind him. A vagabond life of adventure before him with other rootless vagabonds as his only companions. Nothing permanent behind him. No moss gathered or expected. Nothing promising ahead of him. Who was he, anyway? He had no identity. He had nothing. Nothing, except for this slight buzz in his head that could be from a sugar high caused by Valentine's Day in general or candy in particular. It should be noted that Spock wasn't the only one out there who loved chocolate, and he had certainly had his share, and more, of the traditional sweets. Some might say that he needed to be brought down from his sugary heights.

The shadowy waterfront was the perfect place to walk this time of the night with random thoughts, the perfect place to walk numbly and pointlessly, the perfect place for a murder.

He became aware of movement behind him. Someone was following him. Had he heard footsteps for awhile and ignored them? Was he making it easy for his murderer to dispatch him?

“Who’s there?” he dared to shout into the night. Except it wasn’t a shout. It was somewhere between a shout and a squeak. More like a squeak.

Someone stepped out of the shadows. Someone he knew.

McCoy frowned. “Spock? What are you doing following me?”

“I was curious as to where you were going at this time of night in this area of town. It is not very safe for you. Why are you here?”

“Didn’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?” McCoy snipped back. He did not like to be disturbed by this ‘conscience on feet’ who was confronting him now.

“I believe that my questions have priority.”

“Why? Because you’re curious? That’s just plain nosiness, Spock. Besides, I asked my questions first.”

“I believe that my questions take precedent.”

“Oh? How do you figure that? And why?”

Spock kept walking toward McCoy. In fact, he had not stopped or even paused in his advance since McCoy had challenged him. McCoy had expected Spock to stop when he had reached a certain distance apart. Spock did not.

“Why, Doctor?” Spock asked, and McCoy could see how grim his face was. “Why, indeed.”

Spock was bearing down on him, and McCoy could see that at any second they were going to collide. McCoy was too stunned to move.

“Why?” Spock came hurtling up to McCoy on a collision course. “Because I am the one with the hands and body that are going to hurt you.“ And to prove his point, he reached out and grabbed McCoy’s penis through his trousers.

McCoy Jr. objected and McCoy, Sr. gasped. What the--

Spock had not only grabbed, but he had twisted that tender flesh.

McCoy screamed out in pain.

Spock’s face hardened. “I could kill you here.” 

McCoy paled as his body objected to the rough handling it was receiving. “How are you going to do that? By twisting off my dick?!”

Spock’s hand rooted around McCoy’s anatomy, grabbed McCoy’s weighty balls, and squeezed. If there was a blessing, he did not squeeze as hard as he had the penis.

McCoy screwed his eyes shut anyway and grimaced. Those gonads were a pretty touchy part of his equipment.

“Want me to twist them?” Spock whispered hotly in McCoy’s ear as he put more pressure on the man seeds. “I can.”

McCoy shook his head and his teeth gnashed together.

“You are wise. Do not test me further, Doctor.“

What had struck the crazy Vulcan?!

So McCoy offered no further objections. Spock had some sort of agenda here, but McCoy wasn’t clear as to what it was. Unless causing pain was it. If so, the Vulcan was certainly succeeding. McCoy’s immediate concern was not puking all over the both of them, and that might be very imminent the way his stomach was churning.

Spock released McCoy’s balls. “I could kill you very easily, Doctor.“

Spock was back on that theme, McCoy noticed as he tried to slow his breathing.

“And it would be assumed that a stranger had done it,” Spock continued. “No one would question your death.”

McCoy sighed in relief. His stomach subsided to a mere sloshing, but his nether region was vibrating in indignation. He had felt physically ill from the rough treatment he had just received. 

The Vulcan had a lot to answer for.

“Why did you--” McCoy started.

The hand that had twisted his penis so cruelly and threatened his gonads was suddenly over his mouth, and Spock himself was inches from McCoy‘s startled face.

“Can you smell your own cunt on my hand, Doctor?” he snarled.

Yes, he could. And that acrid ammonia smell was threatening to flip his stomach again.

Watch out, shoes!

“Your time has come, Earthling!”

McCoy screwed his eyes shut in horror, but was stunned when he felt his traitorous penis jump in excitement. Another country heard from! 

“I could force you into the shadows and screw your ass, and there is nothing you could do to prevent me from doing just that.”

Spock was probably right. There was little McCoy could do to help his situation. He just wanted to know why Spock had taken up a crusade to feel him up and talk dirty to him.

Spock’s other hand brushed low on McCoy’s stomach.

McCoy’s penis took another leap, stronger and firmer this time as blood poured into it. It reported to McCoy's brain that it was ready for action as it kicked out in glee. Spock surely had felt that nudge against his leg.

Maybe McCoy wasn’t interested in any ass probing at the present moment, but his penis sure as hell was interested in some kind of sexual adventure.

McCoy at last had an identity. A negative one. He meant something to someone. McCoy hadn’t realized that had been an issue. But it seemed to be one with Spock. Two vagabonds from the Enterprise discussing an upcoming screwing event. McCoy could almost get worked up about it if Spock wasn’t acting so belligerent and just plain weird, even for Spock. And it wasn’t McCoy’s that was the asshole in question.

“Put your hands out, Doctor.”

Now what, McCoy wondered as he rushed to obey. Anything to keep those alien hands away from his nether regions.

Spock snapped handcuffs on McCoy’s wrists.

What the, McCoy’s eyes asked. He thought it prudent not to verbalize his question as the Vulcan seemed unreasonably touchy tonight.

“I see you are wearing dress clothing this evening, Doctor. Is this a good suit?”

“Well, yes. My grey tweed. Very serviceable.”

“And your best white shirt?”

What the hell?! This really didn’t seem to be the place for a style show or to be discussing McCoy‘s formal clothing.

“My second best shirt.”

“Any sentimental attachment to it?”

“None whatsoever. Why?”

In answer, Spock grabbed the shirt in both hands and pulled it open. Material ripped and buttons went flying every which way.

“What the hell?!” McCoy protested as he looked down in surprise at the rags hanging off his chest.

Spock shrugged. “It was not your best white shirt. And you held no sentimental attachment to it.”

“It was still a good white shirt!”

“True. But now your white tee shirt is not unique,” he said as he pulled out McCoy’s tee shirt from where it was tucked into McCoy’s dress slacks. ”You have several.” He grabbed the collar of the shirt. “Hold very still.” And with that, he slit the tee shirt from its top to its hem with a sharp object that McCoy had been unaware was in Spock’s hand.

McCoy stared down in disbelief at his torn clothing hanging open and exposing his chest. He stared at Spock for clarification.

“Box opener,” Spock answered as he held up the sharp knife.

McCoy’s frown deepened. That was not what he had wanted clarified. He’d wanted to know why, not how.

But he had no time to think about that, because Spock grabbed the rags and shoved them and the suit jacket wide apart and down McCoy’s arms. McCoy’s chest and most of his shoulders were exposed to the night air. There was a definite chill to the air that McCoy hadn’t noticed until his chest was exposed to the elements.

Spock ran his eyes in appreciation and possessively over McCoy’s nakedness. All McCoy could do was close his eyes and swallow hard. He could feel Spock’s eyes on his chilling flesh. It didn’t help that his nipples hardened, either from the cold or the close scrutiny.

But McCoy did not have much time to think about that, either, because he felt Spock’s hands fumbling with his belt buckle.

McCoy’s eyes flew open. Spock’s head was lowered as he concentrated on the leather belt. There was no way he could have known that McCoy was opening his mouth to object.

But he did.

“Not one word, Leonard.”

McCoy shut his mouth. He knew that Spock still had that box opener in his hand, and Spock’s hand was awfully close to McCoy’s national treasures that resided south of that belt buckle....

Spock’s hands slung the ends of the belt aside, then began to work the zipper down on McCoy’s slacks.

McCoy broke out in a sweat.

The zipper lowered with a rich and expensive whirr.

McCoy gasped as the back of Spock’s hand brushed over McCoy, Jr. McCoy, Jr. tried to follow that hand, and McCoy whimpered.

Then McCoy realized that Spock was using that box opener to saw through the fabric of McCoy’s briefs from the waistband south. McCoy sucked in his breath. That area that the box opener was hovering over was medically known as the pubis. As long as that sharp knife was that close to his endowments, McCoy planned to stand very still.

Spock pocketed the sharp object, and McCoy breathed deeply in relief. But that relief didn’t last very long.

Spock’s hands on either side of McCoy’s hips grabbed the torn clothing and shoved them down McCoy’s thighs, stopping just before McCoy was thoroughly exposed. McCoy automatically spread his legs to keep his trousers from falling to the ground.

“Ah, beautiful,” Spock proclaimed as his eyes surveyed the masterpiece before him. “The limbs are covered while the trunk is naked.” He looked at McCoy’s face. “Congratulations, Doctor. You are now naked and covered all at once.”

“Normally, the covered parts are reversed.”

“How droll, and, how true. But we can remedy that shortly.”

“But--”

“In case you are concerned, let me assure you that your nudity will not even be an issue for you, anymore.”

“Well, really, you don’t have to go to any trouble on my account--”

“No trouble at all, Doctor.” He took McCoy’s arm. “And now, if you will come with me.”

McCoy shuffled, spread legged, so he would not lose his trousers.

“Really, Doctor. Your modesty is amusing.”

“My modesty isn’t my concern.”

“You are so droll this evening, Doctor.”

“That isn’t my concern, either.”

Spock stood McCoy. “Then I believe that we are about to address your concern.”

Damn! McCoy’s carotid artery jumped in his neck, and McCoy, Jr. nearly cleared the clothing that was riding so low over it.

McCoy looked around. They were standing near a building. The only other thing he could see was an upright barrel. It was something similar to what had been used for centuries to transport salt fish, molasses, whiskey, and other products. It was about waist high on McCoy as he looked at it.

“You are going to lean face down over this barrel, Doctor.”

“What?!”

“Here. Here. No argument. I will help you.”

Spock led McCoy forward until McCoy’s front side was shoved against the old wood. Spock grabbed McCoy’s handcuffed hands and pulled them over the top of the barrel. Then he pulled the hands downward.

McCoy sprawled awkwardly over the barrel while he felt his hands reaching nearly the ground. A metal click told him that the cuffs had been secured someway.

“An old bolt in the flooring of the wharf,” Spock explained. “Horses were tied to it. And now you are cuffed to it.”

McCoy wasn’t as impressed with the convenience of the bolt’s location as Spock and let him know about it and the whole situation as subtly as only McCoy could.

“Let me up from here! You’ve lost your mind, you crazy Vulcan!”

Spock studied the wild eyed man glaring at him. “I am glad that you spoke, Doctor. You have reminded me of something I almost neglected to do.” With that, he pulled out adhesive tape and tore off a strip of it.

“Just what in the hell do you think you’re going to do with-- Hmmpph! Hmmpph!”

“Ah,” Spock said with satisfaction. “A vast improvement.”

He walked around to where McCoy struggled against his shackles and dangled on tiptoe over the barrel. 

“What a lovely picture you do present, Doctor. I feel that I must see you from all angles, but first--” He grabbed McCoy’s trousers and briefs and pulled them to McCoy’s ankles. McCoy protested. “You are correct. They are still encumbering you. I will not be able to spread your legs as much as I wish to do.” He pulled the clothing over McCoy’s shoes and dumped them in a heap nearby. “You may not want to thrash around too much, Doctor, or you will scuff your dress shoes.”

Spock yanked shirts and suit jacket up over McCoy’s head. McCoy’s shoulders, arms, and feet were the only parts of his body clothed.

“Now you are completely in the dark, so this experience will only be sharpened for you. How thrilling that you will be completely at my mercy and whim.”

McCoy continued twisting, even as Spock pulled his hams apart. The action scooted his hips further up, so there was no mistaking what was being offered Spock, despite the poor lighting. Spock had to be able to see straight down inside McCoy.

Spock made short order of the prize before him. He didn’t even use lube, and his mighty thrusts abraded McCoy’s tender insides. It did calm down McCoy’s twisting around, though.

Spock flipped McCoy over, and ripped the tape off McCoy’s mouth.

“What in the hell! Taking me dry! You are a sadist!”

“And you are still excited,” Spock said as he noted the upward thrust of McCoy, Jr. into the empty air.

“Well, all I had to whack was the side of a splintery barrel, and that wasn’t very satisfying! I‘m in dire straits here!”

“Well, let me assist you then.”

With that, he dropped his mouth over McCoy, Jr.

McCoy, Sr. screamed and screamed. He pulled on the handcuffs holding his arms over his head and screamed some more. That’s why the damn Vulcan had removed the tape. He’d wanted to hear McCoy’s screams, and McCoy certainly accommodated him.

Finally, Spock straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

McCoy lay, dazed and exhausted against the uncomfortable barrel. He was thoroughly sated, having had both sides of his nether regions serviced. “I wish the hell you would stop doing that. Dropping your mouth on me if I so much as hint--”

“Why? You enjoyed it, didn’t you? And it did take care of your problem.”

“Yes. But I sure don’t remember much about either of them. Especially the first round with my head inside my clothing.”

“You were too excited. I had to make short work of you.”

“Don’t you mean that you were the one who was too excited?!” McCoy growled.

“I believe that we both were over stimulated. But I am sorry I disappointed you.” With that, he turned McCoy over on his stomach again.

“Now, what the hell are going to do to me?!”

“Why, make proper love to you. Give you an experience that you can remember.”

“Well, you really don’t have to. Not on my account.”

“Oh, but I insist.” He showed McCoy a silver tube. “And this time I will use lubrication. I will go slowly, Doctor. You will pull on your handcuffs. And you will slobber. And you will cry for me to hurry. But I will not. Because I know what you really want.” He leaned close to McCoy’s ear and ran his tongue around it for a moment. “You want me to make slow love to you. And your wish is my command. You will want me to stay inside you forever.”

McCoy did all the things that Spock predicted.

And more.

 

At last McCoy lay sated and exhausted across the barrel. Saliva drained out of his opened mouth and off his lax lips. Tears and snot covered his face. His throat was sore from screaming. Spock gently stroked McCoy’s flattened hips, and neither one felt any passion by the action. 

“That was wonderful, Spock,“ McCoy murmured with his raspy voice.

“Thank you, Doctor. I am glad that you are thoroughly satisfied.“

“Oh, yeah,“ McCoy lisped. “That. Satisfied.“

Bright light suddenly filled the waterfront, and Jim Kirk stepped out from where he had been watching the action the whole time.

“That’s great, Spock. I think that he’s had enough.”

Spock straightened. “That is certainly good news, Captain. It was beginning to wear on even someone of my stamina.” He reached down and unfastened the handcuffs and helped McCoy to stand. “Here, Doctor, let me help you with your attire.”

Spock bent down and held the slacks while McCoy stepped into them one leg at a time. McCoy held onto Spock’s shoulder while he did the stepping. All the while, he had an incredible look on his face. There was no way he could have spoken.

Spock stood and drew the briefs and slacks up over McCoy’s hips, zipped up the zipper, and patted McCoy, Jr. with a flat hand through the two layers of material. “I believe that area of you deserves a good rest now, Doctor.”

“What about the other side?!” McCoy fumed, his power of speech restored. “You could have used some lube that first time, you green blooded hobgoblin! That smarted a little!”

“I had to get your attention, Doctor.”

“My attention wasn’t my concern! My asshole was!”

“Now, Doctor. You’ve had worse.”

“That damn Klingon trio doesn’t count! Just because they hadn‘t seen a woman for a week doesn‘t mean that I should‘ve been their bitch all night and part of the next day! My knees were strangers to each other for two days, and for a week I walked like I busted mustangs for a living!” He frowned, in remembrance. “No, those sex deprived Klingons don’t count. Neither does that giant ape who thought I was a female of his species. Damn idiot wouldn‘t take no for an answer. Even when I lowered my slacks and tried to explain to him that hole wasn‘t a vagina. All it did was get him more excited and me more accessible for him.” He grinned and winked. “But that long dick of his was really worth it. I could‘ve become female for him. Gladly.”

“Some people might view such preferences as perverted, Doctor.”

McCoy shrugged. “Seems normal to me. As long as it’s satisfactory for the participants, I don’t see a problem.”

“How about the tiny, sex driven octopus who used his long tentacles for penetration? I believe he found out that you could take only five in your anal canal.”

“Damn creature tried for six, I’ll have to give him that.” He looked up with eyes blazing. “Even he had his own lube! And the scientists think that black ink of the octopus is just for defense purposes. I can testify that it has another use, and a damn good one. Otherwise, my ass would‘ve been ripped apart. He had built in lube. And! And, he was willing to go slow so that I could keep up with him. That had to be trying on his nerves.”

“I believe that he had another tactic that had you drooling, also. The five prong advance, I believe you named it.”

McCoy smiled in remembrance. “Yeah. I could dream about that for a month.” He sighed. “The octopus stuck four tentacles in me, one at a time. I think it got excited when it saw that I could take as many as I could.” His eyes got a faraway look. “Then those four tentacles pulled four different directions. I know because I could feel the pressure and then the cool air clear up inside me. Then.” McCoy swallowed. “Then he slid the fifth tentacle in the open space between those other four tentacles.” He frowned and licked his lips. “Then, then, those five tentacles started expanding. Then throbbing. I felt like I hadn‘t taken a shit for a week. And I couldn‘t get rid of it. It just kept getting bigger. And harder. And deeper. I thought the whole mess was going to wind up in my stomach and tickle my liver. My ass must‘ve been swollen like the fat lady‘s at the carnival show.” 

McCoy wiped a hand over his face. “And all the while, those other three tentacles were busy. One was wrapped around McCoy, Jr. and my balls, and all of those suction cups along the tentacle were planting feather kisses, AND WORSE, all over those sensitive areas. The seventh was wrapped around my chest and pestered the hell out of my nipples. Its tip had slid down my throat, and I nearly choked, especially when it started expanding. That tentacle had to be the sixth one that had tried to penetrate me below because the acrid mess I was tasting certainly wasn’t ambrosia. I thought that I was going to vomit. If I had, I believe that I would have choked myself. I believe that the octopus understood my dilemma because that tentacle shot some of its ink down my throat. Now, that was ambrosia. That, I swallowed and swallowed. It made me half drunk and willing to go along with whatever the octopus wanted to do with me.” He frowned. “And that was a good thing. Because that eighth tentacle was still out there, with nothing to do. Then it found something to do.” He grimaced. “It was all over me. Sucking. Fondling. And scraping. Those suction caps had sharp edges on the outside that could be unsheathed at will, and the damn octopus was an expert at using them. It was like being scoured by tiny honey bees. I shivered and shivered, it seemed forever.” His frown deepened. “And then I came and came, forever and ever. I thought that I would have a heart attack or simply die from pleasure. I could feel my bowels turning to water, but there was nowhere for that dirty substance to go. The pressure built up from that, and I came some more.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “I could have adopted that little creature. I could have pleasured myself to death with him. I don’t know why you and Jim killed it.”

“Simply because you could have pleasured yourself to death. There is more to life than satisfying your own lusts.”

“Your goals, Vulcan. Not mine.”

“Yours, too, Doctor. You have a life outside pleasure and lust. You are dedicated to medicine and your career in Star Fleet, and occasionally you have to be reminded of it.”

“That’s why this little charade, then?”

“We had to do something to bring you back to reality,” Spock explained.

“And it was a helluva sacrifice on your part,” McCoy snipped. “I can tell.”

“All of that Valentines sweetness was getting to you, Bones,” Kirk explained. “We had to burn it out of you, for your own good. You‘ve been celebrating Valentine‘s Day way too much.”

McCoy shot Kirk an evil look. “And I expect you would have stepped up and pleasured me if the Vulcan hadn’t!”

Kirk shrugged. “Spock volunteered.”

“That was large of you!” McCoy shot at Spock.

Spock shrugged. “Some sacrifices must be made for the good of the Enterprise.”

“And you believe that the cure worked?!”

“You seem to have returned to your normal cranky self,” Spock answered smugly. “So, yes, I do believe that the cure worked.”

“And what if I believe that I am in need of a booster shot, already?!” McCoy roared. “Some residual sweetness is still in my system. I believe that it has settled in my anal area!”

Spock sighed. “Then, I suppose I could be called upon to supply the proper medication at the proper dosage.”

“And what if it might take all night to give that dosage a little at a time?!”

Spock sighed deeper. “If I may be allowed a short nap occasionally, I may be able to perform sufficiently to keep you entertained. And quenched.”

“Good! And during those refurbishing naps of yours, I could spoon you to keep you from chilling. You know, so that you can go back into immediate action when called upon.”

“I suppose that would be a more pleasurable means of warmth than blankets.”

“Damn straight! And I could have you properly stimulated upon awakening. Whenever I saw you stirring, I could employ my hands to massage you to alertness.”

“Ah, an excellent division of labor and a saving of time.”

“I thought that you might appreciate my idea.”

“That, too, Doctor.” Spock gave him a wise look. “I appreciate your hands so much more, though, than ideas.”

“Just so you can service me the way I require to, ah, rid my system of the residual sweetness from Valentine’s Day.”

“I see that you might be difficult to handle. You do not display the proper respect, Doctor. I ascertain that I will have to administer the needed disciplinary actions to teach you some much needed manners.”

“Over my quivering asshole, you will!”

“Whatever it takes, Doctor, I am willing and quite able to perform. My flat hand has quite a sting to it, I am told.”

“Now, he’s threatening to spank me! This is on your head, Kirk!” McCoy shot back at Jim. “You’re responsible for this!”

“Bones. I’m powerless. I, I can’t help you.”

Spock grabbed McCoy’s arm and pulled him away. “Come along, Doctor. Do not dawdle. We will seek shelter in this old building. I‘m certain that rope and candles are stored in there.”

“What do you need with rope and candles?!”

“I will let your imagination supply the answers to those questions, Doctor,” Spock said with a cryptic smile as he tightened his hold on McCoy.

“Jim!”

“Bones! I‘m sorry.”

“I assure you, Doctor,“ Spock said grimly. “Any slowness on your part will only result in further retribution from me.”

“Spock! Give him mercy!” Kirk called in a last ditch effort to appease the grim faced alien from his devious plans at McCoy‘s expense.

“Nothing can help him now, Captain.” Spock answered as he unceremoniously jerked McCoy forward.

McCoy glared back at Kirk.

And then he grinned at Jim and winked.

**Author's Note:**

> McCoy has Spock right where he wants him. And Jim Kirk is still laughing.  
> I own nothing dealing with Star Trek, including story lines and/or characters.


End file.
